


Heartbeats

by stratumgermanitivum



Series: His And Mine Are The Same [4]
Category: Adam (2009), Charlie Countryman (2013), Hannibal Extended Universe - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-15
Updated: 2018-11-15
Packaged: 2019-08-23 20:34:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16625963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stratumgermanitivum/pseuds/stratumgermanitivum
Summary: Nigel's soulmark has always been nothing more than a collection of dots. Soulmarks, in general, are an annoyance. They've already ruined his life once. And then Adam Raki walks into his life.The stranger leans forward to peer intently at Nigel’s bicep. “Here, that’s Sirius. And here’s Adhara, or Epsilon Canis Majoris. Several stars have two names, one to name the star and one to designate it as part of the constellation. This one here-” His finger grazes one of the dots, an electric shock against Nigel’s skin. They both freeze.Nigel looks up to meet the stranger’s evasive gaze, and once again falls head over heels for a blue eyed, pretty little thing with a heart on their sleeve.The stranger looks up at the curve of Nigel’s jaw, shapes his lips around words that never come…And then runs.





	Heartbeats

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bigeyes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigeyes/gifts).



His Gabi had worn a heart on her sleeve, just not her own. It had stretched, blush-pink, across the veins of her left wrist, upturned for Nigel to see. Soulmarks told of what was most important to your soulmate, their passion, the thing that drove them the most. They knew, of course, that they were not soulmates, but Nigel would kiss his way across it anyway.

“You know I love you,” He would whisper into the soft, sensitive skin of her delicate wrist. He would nip playfully at the veins until she giggled, helplessly lost in the beauty of her smile, the bright blue of her eyes. “I love you more than any soulmate has ever loved anyone.”

And then she met Charlie Fucking Countryman, that squeaking cunt with the opening bars of Bach’s Cello Suite No. 1 flushed birthmark pink across his back. Nigel had sat in his apartment listening to Gabi play that exact piece, over and over again, until she’d perfected her solo. He heard it in his dreams, the background accompaniment to Gabi’s beautiful smile.

But there was no competing with a soulmate. They had always been temporary. Nigel had merely hoped they would have years, decades even, before he found them. Perhaps he and Gabi would be those supposedly unlucky few who didn’t connect until they were gray and weak. Perhaps they would never connect at all.

But Gabi connected, and Nigel was a bad, bad man, but he could not be angry with his Gabi for something she’d had no choice in. Nor could he entirely hate a man who believed in loving Gabi so fiercely that she’d worn his love tattooed on her body from birth. He gave it his best shot, anyway, and the last time he saw his beautiful Gabriela, he’d left her pitiful soulmate with a bruise across his jaw. Somehow, when he left, his Gabi looked more sad than resentful. Her pity hurt worse than her anger ever could have.

He left his Gabriela, fleeing as far and as fast as he could. Darko had mentioned opportunities in America, and Nigel had leaped at the chance. He found himself in a too-small apartment in too-hot, too-dry California, but he was far from beautiful Gabi or any fucks named Countryman, and so Nigel counted his blessings and his cash.

California wasn’t a terrible place to live, even if it _was_ filled with Americans. Nigel had never had much patience for tourists. He had even less patience now that he frequently appeared to be one of them. But there were bars and clubs on practically every corner. It was a country of alcoholics, and as someone who liked a little drink himself, Nigel was reveling in it.

The bar he frequented most was a crowded, popular site. There was something to be said for quiet, smokey dive bars, but it was a lot easier to take home a pretty little thing if he had more to choose from. And Nigel, among his many other flaws, is a choosy bastard.

It happens on a Tuesday. No one ever expects life changing events to happen on a Tuesday. Life changing events are really more suited for weekends. But it’s a Tuesday when Nigel steps out for a smoke, at about the same time another man comes seeking a breath of fresh air.

It’s hot in California. Nigel’s wardrobe consists mostly of thin cotton t-shirts and jeans, nowadays, showing off the smattering of dots pink across his left upper arm. Fucking _dots_. Charlie fucking _Cunt_ -tryman gets a goddamn _song_ all over his back, and Nigel gets _dots._

Or at least, to him, they have always been dots. Clearly, other people see other things in them.

“You have the Canis Major constellation on your arm.” The stranger who has joined Nigel’s smoke break is tall, dark haired, and dressed in a button-down shirt and slacks, both too neatly pressed to be any sort of proper bar attire. Nigel spares him a glance and then goes back to his cigarette, too tired to be annoyed.

“What's that, now?”

The stranger leans forward to peer intently at Nigel’s bicep. “Here, that’s Sirius. And here’s Adhara, or Epsilon Canis Majoris. Several stars have two names, one to name the star and one to designate it as part of the constellation. This one here-” His finger grazes one of the dots, an electric shock against Nigel’s skin. They both freeze.

Nigel looks up to meet the stranger’s evasive gaze, and once again falls head over heels for a blue eyed, pretty little thing with a heart on their sleeve.

The stranger looks up at the curve of Nigel’s jaw, shapes his lips around words that never come…

And then runs.

\-----

The thing about fleeing your soulmate as fast as you possibly can, is that you don’t tend to have much time to collect your things. Through careful observation, Nigel manages to locate the man’s messenger bag. He rifles through the wallet, memorizing details as quickly as he can, before passing himself off as a well-intentioned stranger to his soulmate’s coworkers. They’re all grateful to him for telling them that, ‘He got sick, poor thing, and had to rush off,’ and are happy to take his bag to him at work. Nigel nods and smiles, and plans.

The observatory gives tours. Three days later, Nigel pays twenty dollars and trails after an excessively excited young lady who carefully explains every step of what they do. Nigel listens to absolutely none of it, until she leads them into a room with a promise to ‘introduce you all to one of our fantastic engineers!’

Adam Raki seemed like such a little thing, when he was fleeing from Nigel in terror, but here Nigel is suddenly aware that they are nearly the same height. Here, in the observatory, he stands tall and recites a speech that seems no less impassioned for the flat tone it is delivered in.

Adam doesn’t look directly at any of the tour members. Rather, his eyes seem to flit over ties and haircuts, avoiding eye contact.

Halfway through the speech, he catches a glance of Nigel, arms crossed in a short-sleeve T-shirt, and stumbles over his next few words.

“And so. And s-so...” Adam’s eyes find Nigel’s for a half second before jerking away. His hands begin to tap out a rhythm against his thighs. Nigel is relieved to see he is not the only one coming undone.

Adam concludes his speech in halting, stuttering breaths. By the end of it, there’s a tight furrow of concern between the tour guide’s eyes, and she hastens them out of the room with false smiles. Nigel hovers at the back of the crowd, but Adam takes one look at his lingering frame and flees the room, disappearing through a door marked ‘employees only.’ No matter. Nigel has found him now.

Nigel waits several hours outside the observatory door, smoking cigarette after cigarette and watching the sun set beyond the mountains. It is dark when Adam Raki finally comes stumbling out, looking over his shoulder as if Nigel is some sort of monster lurking just out of sight.

“Not going to make me chase you again, are you gorgeous?”

Adam goes very stiff, staring down at his feet and clutching his messenger bag against his side, as if Nigel might try to wrench it from him. Nigel tries not to be offended.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” Adam tells him, tapping his fingers against the strap of his messenger bag, “No one is supposed to be here. We closed an hour ago. I waited-” He stops, red faced. Nigel can guess exactly what he was waiting for: For Nigel to give up, to leave. _That_ hurts.

“I wanted to talk to you,” Nigel says, approaching Adam in slow but steady steps. Adam’s shoulders climb further up with every inch lost between them. “Just talk, darling, that’s all.”

“Adam,” Adam says stiffly, “My name is Adam.”

“Adam, then. Just a conversation, right?”

Adam shakes his head. “I have to get home. I’m already late. I need to make my dinner and watch my show. I need to do things in order. I don’t have time to stay for a conversation.” He takes another step away, and Nigel panics, reaching out to grab his arm. He yanks Adam towards him, hard enough that Adam flinches at his touch.

“Please,” Nigel says, and it comes out a whisper, a breath, cracking with the weight of Nigel’s longing. “Please, why are you running? Just _talk_ to me.”

Adam’s hands flutter anxiously, fingers twitching in nonsense patterns. He takes in a deep breath, one that shudders and shakes his entire body. “Tomorrow.”

“What?” Hope is a crushing weight in Nigel’s chest, a thud of desperation. He has waited for Adam, long before he even realized that was what he was doing. Gabi, Gabi had been beautiful. The love of his life. But without knowing a single thing about him, Nigel feels drawn to this man. And every piece of information, every blank that is slowly filled in, only makes the ache worse.

“I get an hour for lunch. There’s a diner nearby. I will meet you there. We can have sandwiches and conversation.” Adam yanks at his arm, until Nigel has no choice but to release him.

“It’s a date,” Nigel breaths, helpless in his relief. Adam frowns.

“No, it isn’t.”

\-----

The diner is a tidy little mom-and-pop place, tucked out of the way on a side street. Adam shows up on a bicycle, securing it to a rack outside with a heavy lock. Nigel already has a seat, a booth right by the door. He watches Adam through the window with undisguised longing. Adam doesn’t look at him at all, keeps his eyes locked on the floor as he wanders in and sits across from Nigel with shaking hands that tap almost wildly across his knees an the vinyl fabric of the booth.

“How was your day?” Nigel asks, only to get a sharp shake of Adam’s head in return.

“No.”

“No?”

“I’m not very good at small talk,” Adam clarifies, sounding almost apologetic despite the glare he’s leveling at the tabletop, “It’s very difficult for me, and I am not in the mood to try. You didn’t want to ask about my day, anyway. You wanted to talk about our marks.”

The waitress comes by at that moment, saving Nigel from his complete inability to form the proper words. It’s become very clear that he has no control over his interactions with Adam.

“Just water, please,” Adam says. Nigel frowns.

“You can get whatever you like. It’s my treat.”

Adam shakes his head. “I’m very particular about what I eat. My father called it ‘picky,’ but I just know what I like. Trying new things is stressful, and I am not able to manage any additional stress right now.”

It twinges a bit of guilt in Nigel’s chest. He shakes it off and orders a burger and fries. He’s always been prone to coddling his lovers, and he’d feel like a failure if he didn’t at least try to coax Adam into stealing something off his plate. Besides, the waitress had deflated a bit during Adam’s explanation, and he didn’t want the poor thing to miss out on a decent ticket.

“Talk,” Adam says once the waitress leaves, “That was what you wanted, right? To talk to me?”

“To have a conversation,” Nigel corrects, “Preferably one where you participate.”

“I’ll participate.”

Nigel sighs and leans back in his seat. “Are you going to tell me why you ran?”

“I was hoping never to see you again,” Adam tells him, blunt and to-the-point, “It’s a very large city. The chances were good.”

Nigel flinches. “Probably should have remembered your wallet, then,” He growls.

“Yes, that would have been helpful.” There’s no humor to Adam’s voice, not a trace of irony. He says it because it is true, and does not temper his words with politeness. They cut through Nigel like knives.

“Anyone ever tell you you’re a rude little shit?” Nigel aims his words to wound, but Adam seems unaffected. In fact, he seems more surprised than anything else, mulling over Nigel’s words with a tight frown.

“You’re upset,” He finally says. “It’s illogical. You don’t know me well enough for our interactions to matter.”

“Illogical?” Nigel says with a bitter laugh, “You’re my fucking _soulmate._ I’ve been waiting for you my entire goddamn useless life.”

“You can’t have been waiting for me,” Adam reasons, “You didn’t know who I was.”

“ _Christ,_ ” Nigel groans, and then grabs for Adam’s hand. Adam’s shoulders rise again, but he allows Nigel to drag his hand out to the middle of the table, flipping it palm up. He traces his fingers over the heart, just barely revealed under the cuff of Adam’s sleeve. “This,” Nigel says, pressing the sleeve back until they can both see the entirety of Adam’s mark. “This is what matters to me, more than anything else in the world. Love. The fucking love, it makes me crazy. Everything I do, everything I have ever done, has been for love. For _you_.”

“You don’t love me,” Adam tells him quietly. “You don’t even know me.”

“I could. If you would let me. We’re soulmates, Adam, how can we not love each other?”

This is, apparently, the wrong thing to say. Adam’s eyes narrow and he goes stiff. “7 percent of all soulmates are platonic,” he recites.

Nigel knows the statistics. He and Gabi had recited them often to each other, a promise to stay together, stay married. No matter what. Nigel has copies of divorce papers showing what a fantastic lie _that_ was. “I don’t want us to be platonic.”

“Why?” Adam stares him down with those big baby-blues. He’s beautiful. And smart, and stubborn. Just the way Nigel likes ‘em. Everything about him was tailor-made for Nigel. And yet, Nigel cannot have him.

“Call me an old-fashioned romantic.”

“You’re an old-fashioned romantic,” Adam obliges, “but you don’t love me. You might not even _like_ me, if you got to know me.”

“I don’t see that being possible, Adam.”

Adam sighs, pulling his hand out of Nigel’s grasp. “After today, I don’t think we should see each other again,” He says, in a calm, steady voice that reaches into Nigel’s intestines and _yanks_. Nigel grabs for his hand again, clutches it so tightly that Adam startles and stares at him, all wide-eyed uncertainty.

Nigel imagines it, Adam walking away, fading from sight. Never seeing him again. Something in him lurches, protests. He marvels at the fact that Adam doesn’t seem to feel it, that nothing in him seems to tug him towards Nigel.

Nigel wants him. He wants to kiss his way across those soft cheeks, drawing out pink blushes and deep moans. He wants to hold him close while they sleep. He wants, most of all, to learn whatever is going on behind those big blue eyes, and it is this that draws the words from him.

“Fine,” Nigel says, clinging to the thump of Adam’s pulse, “Fine, I don’t love you. I don’t know you. But you could at least let me _try. Please,_ Adam. Seven percent, right? Seven fucking percent, I could be your friend. I could be the best damn friend you’ve ever had.”

“You don’t want that,” Adam says, heartbeat skittering frantically under Nigel’s fingers, “You want romance.”

“I’ll give it up,” Nigel swears, “You’ll never hear another word about love from me, I swear it. Just… Just, _please.”_ It will be suffering, will be agony. Nigel has known from the minute he saw the blush-pink heart on Adam’s wrist, that he was made to love Adam. But he will take anything Adam can give, if it means he can keep him close.

For a second, Nigel has no hope. He can see the anxiety at war on Adam’s features, and it stabs at him in deep, scarring bursts. Then, Adam sighs, and pulls his hand free once more.

“Alright. We can be friends. For now.” It is a soothing balm to Nigel’s wounds and a further twist of the knife. Nigel gives an eager nod, anyway.

“Just friends,” He promises.

In the end, Adam doesn’t eat any of Nigel’s fries, but neither does Nigel.

\-----

As it turns out, there is one major problem with befriending Adam: Every new thing Nigel learns about him only deepens the yearning love he feels.

The first thing Adam allows is texting. “I don’t like phone calls,” He explains, “I have Asperger's syndrome, although they call it Autism Spectrum Disorder now. People are very difficult for me to understand, to begin with, and it is harder without physical cues to look for. I typically miss physical cues, as well, but I’m learning to watch for them.”

That certainly explains a lot; the tapping, the lack of eye contact, the way Adam takes everything so damn literally. Texting is actually easier. Nigel has no worry that his tone will be lost, because Adam probably wouldn’t have noticed the tone anyway. And it means Nigel doesn’t have to hide the ridiculous smile on his face whenever Adam texts him first.

Adam’s idea of texting is to send Nigel random tidbits of knowledge he picks up on during his day, followed by long hours of radio silence because he won’t break his routine for anyone, not even his persistent soulmate. _Especially_ his persistent soulmate.

The second thing Adam allows are meetings, on neutral ground of Adam’s choosing (He won’t visit Nigel’s apartment, and had been very upset the one time Nigel suggested it). He will not allow Nigel to feed him, not dinner or chocolates or any other sort of treat. Nor can Nigel come close enough to touch him. He shies away even from casual touches to the shoulder, and Nigel has not managed to take his wrist again since that first meeting in the diner.

But he will talk. _Oh,_ will he talk.

The observatory where Adam works is sequestered in a beautifully forested area, with rivers and rocks and trees. Adam has a favorite rock, a boulder, really. Large and flat, perfect to set up his telescope on and show Nigel the stars.

It seems to Nigel that Adam knows all of the stars. He rambles off names and Greek letters at a pace Nigel can barely follow. He explains discovery dates, how he’d chosen his particular telescope, which little dots were stars and which were satellites. Names an launch dates of all the satellites. he could think of. Nigel absorbed it all, slaking his thirst for Adam with the deep love Adam felt for the blackness around them. If he could only coerce Adam into seeing him one night a week, he would take advantage of every second.

By the third week, Nigel comes armed with questions, prompting Adam into long, gleeful ramblings, ecstatic to have someone encouraging him to speak. By the fifth, Adam allows light physical contact in the form of shoulders brushing at the telescope, and Nigel can sit less than a foot away from him when they stargaze.

It takes a long time for Nigel to finally get the courage to ask what he _really_ wants to know. They don’t acknowledge their soulmarks, although Nigel has caught Adam rubbing at his more than once when he gets overexcited. Three months into their careful friendship, Nigel lays back against Adam’s rock and asks him to point out Canis Major again.

Adam hesitates. They’ve been over it, of course, in their conversations. Adam had pointed it out and then moved on to the next topic. But both of them know there is only one reason Nigel would ask.

“There,” He finally says, pointing upwards, “Remember how to find Orion?”

It had been the first one Adam had showed him, easy for even a beginner to pick out, a stick figure with a three-star belt. It was, in Nigel’s personal, _secret_ opinion, the only constellation that actually looked like what it was supposed to. He still didn’t see how Taurus looked anything like a bull.

“Yeah, that one, right?” Nigel says, waving vaguely in the direction of space. Adam takes this with the same patience he always does, continuing to point until Nigel guiltily corrects his own hand.

“Now, follow me until you see the big, bright one.” Adam carefully trails his hand to the left, until he leads Nigel to the brightest star in the sky. “That’s Sirius,” Adam tells him, “Or Alpha Canis Majoris. Also known as the ‘dog star.’ It’s the brightest star in the night sky, because it’s so close to our solar system. It’s so bright that it’s nearly twice as bright as the second brightest star, Canopus. It’s actually getting closer to us. Over the next 60,000 years, it will gradually get even brighter.”

Nigel lets out a low whistle. “No shit?”

“No shit.” Adam mimics. Nigel can’t help but chuckle; Adam never curses. Adam rolls his eyes, continuing his explanation. “People think of space as being still, because we can’t see it move, but it’s actually constantly moving and expanding. Things get closer and further away all the time.”

Nigel looks up at the sky, as frozen as if he’d taken a picture. It’s hard to think that it’s all moving, that _they_ are moving, spinning through space at a speed human beings can’t even fathom.

And yet, it makes perfect sense. Every time Nigel is around Adam, he feels like he needs to get a tight grip on the grass, just to keep from flying off.

“Why Canis Major?” Nigel finally asks, rolling up his sleeve to trace his fingers over his mark. Adam watches him with tense shoulders, and then, hesitantly, reaches out to trace the lines of the constellation.

It is the first time Adam has initiated touch since they found each other, and it’s somehow just as electrifying as the first time, even though they’ve already connected. Nigel meets Adam’s gaze with wide, eager eyes, and although Adam cannot properly hold eye contact, he keeps his head tilted up.

“It’s my favorite constellation,” Adam finally says, dropping his hands into his lap.

“Why’s that?”

“Sirius is the first star you can see. Before the sun goes down completely.” Adam sighs, leaning back against the rock, shoulder to shoulder with Nigel. “When I was a child, things were a lot harder for me. Sights and sounds and smells. Everything was overwhelming, even more so than it is now. Now, I know self-soothing techniques and how to avoid stressors, but as a kid, sometimes the only thing that would calm me was to go out and look at the stars. My dad would take me out on his shoulders, so that I could be as close to the sky as possible. We would go outside and wait, until the stars appeared one by one. I knew it was time when I could find Sirius.” Adam’s eyes close, no doubt picturing night skies gone by. “I went out every single night the week he died. People thought I didn’t care, because I didn’t know how to respond. You’re supposed to cry, when people die, and you’re supposed to only think about them. One of my dad’s old work friends, I heard her talking about me, at the funeral. She didn’t like that I didn’t stand up to say anything. But he was already dead, what was I supposed to say? He wouldn’t have heard me, and I didn’t know anyone there but Harlan, why would I say anything to them? And I had so much to worry about. I’d never lived on my own before, and suddenly everything was different...” Adam trails off, and then shakes his head. “I was a little bit mad at my dad,” He confesses, “Because he left me, and everything changed.”

“It wasn’t his fault, “Nigel says gently, “I’m sure he would have stayed, if he could.”

“I know that. I knew it then, too. But it didn’t stop me from being mad. And then everything just got more and more confusing, and for a while, all I knew how to be was mad and sad and scared.” Adam shrugs, and then gives Nigel a soft smile. “And then I moved out here, and that was hard too, but it was also easier. Things got better.”

And then he met Nigel, and Nigel made him panic. A hint of guilt settles into Nigel’s stomach, but it is quickly drowned out by a very particular selfishness: Nigel cannot, no matter what, regret meeting Adam.

They both stare up at the sky, mulling over what’s been said. Finally, Adam speaks again, drawing the conversation back to safety.

“Sirius is nearly twice the mass of the sun, you know.”

“No shit?”

“No shit.”

\-----  
After that, after Nigel proves his interest in Adam’s stars and learns to point out constellations for him, after Adam opens up the tiniest bit, it gets easier. Adam finally allows Nigel to join him for dinner, and while ‘dinner’ turns out to be frozen mac and cheese, bland chicken, and steamed broccoli, it’s the best meal Nigel’s ever had. Even if they can’t talk during, because Adam’s routine involves mouthing all the words to the single most dull American show Nigel’s ever been forced to witness _(“Have you ever even_ _seen ‘Pretty Woman?’” Nigel asks during one such dinner. “No,” Adam says, with a blank, mildly confused look that clearly says he fails to see Nigel’s point)_.

They still meet weekly to watch the stars, but they also have dinner two or three times a week. Adam likes his coworkers, from what he’s said, but Nigel seems to be his only friend.

Nigel does not grow to be any less in love. Quite the opposite, in fact. He finds himself daydreaming about Adam and his smile, the stars in his eyes, whenever Nigel’s meant o be working. Darko finds him entirely insufferable. Nigel can't make himself care.

Eight months into what Nigel mockingly thinks of as ‘their courtship,’ after freezing nights spent under the stars, just as the world ticks over into summer again, Adam texts him out of the blue.

_Come to the rock tonight. I have something to show you._

Nigel goes, of course. Adam initiating contact is a rarity that cannot be ignored, not that Nigel could resist an extra minute with him anyway.

Adam is already set up when Nigel arrives. He’s gone the extra mile and draped a thick blanket over the grass in front of the rock.

“This is new,” Nigel remarks as he sprawls out, taking up more of the blanket than is strictly necessary. Adam doesn’t seem to notice, spreading out within touching distance, as was Nigel’s intention. He doesn’t actually touch, of course, not without permission, but he enjoys having the option.

“You complain about the ground,” Adam reasons, “And I know you, you’ll want to lay down for the whole thing.”

“The whole what, exactly?”

“Shh. You’re missing it.”

Nigel settles into the ground, staring up at the sky. It takes a long moment before he realizes what he’s looking for, as the first little star streaks across the sky. “Shooting stars?”

“A meteor shower,” Adam corrects, sounding vaguely irritated, “Stars don’t move like that. It’s misleading.”

“Meteors, then,” Nigel agrees, marveling as more and more streaks make themselves known. “Christ, I’ve never seen so many!”

Adam’s smile is audible in his voice, an amused pleasure that Nigel would eagerly draw from him again and again. “This particular shower happens every year. We can come again next year, if you like it.”

“’If I like it,’ fuck’s sake, Adam, you know I would.”

“Yeah,” Adam says with a small laugh, “I did.”

For a few long minutes, they lay quietly to enjoy the sky. On a whim, Nigel closes his eyes and sends up a wish.

When he opens them, Adam is staring at him. Nigel almost doesn’t notice, lost in the stars, but he’s too aware of Adam to be truly oblivious.

“Something on your mind, gorgeous?”

Adam hums thoughtfully. “The first few months I knew you, you wore a ring on your left ring finger.”

Leave it to Adam to dig straight into Nigel’s sensitive bits, without the slightest bit of hesitation. Nigel flinches and passes a hand over his eyes, trying to find the right words.

“I was married, back in Romania,” He finally says, “She found her soulmate. It took me a while to get over it.”

Adam frowns, fingers tapping against the blanket. “So you were lonely, when you met me.”

“No!” Nigel says, sharp and quick enough that Adam flinches, startled. “No, darling, that’s not it at all. I didn’t want you because I was lonely or… or _bored_.”

“You wanted me because I was your soulmate,” Adam sums up, and although it’s true, something about the way he says it sends up red flags in the back of Nigel’s mind.

“How about you,” Nigel asks, deflecting, “Any old flames burning? Old lovers,” He clarifies, when Adam just stares at him.

“I had a girlfriend,” Adam admits, “Back in New York. Her name was Beth. She was… I liked her, a lot. I don’t think I told her as much as I should have, though. She didn’t want to come to California. She didn’t want to keep dating.”

Nigel hums in sympathy. “That’s rough.”

Adam shrugs, then turns the tables right back on Nigel. “Did you love your wife?”

Like all the love stories in the world. It’s Nigel’s turn to flinch. “Did I fucking… Of course I loved her, Adam, I married her, didn’t I? She loved me, too. It’s just… It’s different, when you connect with someone. She couldn’t let him walk away.” It still hurts, truth be told, but Nigel’s not as angry about it as he used to be. How could he be, when all his stars have realigned to orbit around Adam?

Rather than being deterred or even the slightest bit shamed by Nigel’s response, Adam nods thoughtfully. “How did you know?” He asks, “That you loved her?”

It’s not a question Nigel has ever had to answer, and he stops to give it the thought it deserves. The thought Gabi will always deserve, even though they no longer ache for each other.

“I knew… When it hurt to be without her,” Nigel finally says, “When the world was brighter with her in it.” Adam starts to frown, and Nigel corrects himself, dropping the metaphors he’s so used to speaking in, “When I was happier with her than I was on my own. When seeing her smile could make me smile. When I realized I _needed_ her, because life wasn’t as good without her.”

Adam takes all this in with a small furrow between his brows. He thinks, silent and wordless for once, until Nigel starts to fidget with the anxiety of it all.

“I’m over it,” He says, because it seems like he should, even if he can’t see why Adam would care. “She’s moved on, and so have I. I don’t-”

Adam props himself up on his elbows and kisses him. Soft and sweet, the barest press of lips against lips. He pulls back with a curious expression on his face. An almost frown. Nigel has to kiss it away.

It’s perfect. Adam opens up for him with soft presses of their lips, and Nigel finally gets a hand in those beautiful curls. It’s everything Nigel’s been craving, fierce and sweet and so fucking good.

Right up until it isn’t.

Little by little, Adam’s shoulders begin to tense up. Nigel tries to coax him back down with soft, gentle touches to his shoulders, the small dip of his back. It only makes Adam stiffen further, until he shoves Nigel away.

They’re both panting. Adam’s lips are plump, reddened. Nigel wants to bite him.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” Adam says, as knife-sharp as he always manages to be with Nigel. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.”

Nigel stares at him, silent and uncertain. A trickle of anger seeps in under his skin, and then another. Weeks, _months_ of everything for Adam, and he’d never pushed. Never brought it up again. He’d kept all his promises. He’d never even hoped for anything more, because he respected Adam too much for that, but to have everything thrown in his face and then yanked back again, it’s just too much for Nigel to keep back anymore.

“What the _fuck_ , Adam?”

“I’m sorry,” Adam says again, even-toned as ever. Like it doesn’t fucking _bother_ him.

“You’re fucking _sorry_?”

“It was unfair of me to do that.”

“You’re damn right it was fucking unfair. Why the hell would you...” And then something clicks. Adam’s questions. The kiss. The way he avoids, not just the usual too-much of Nigel’s eyes, but his entire face. Nigel growls and shoves himself to his feet. “I don’t understand why you won’t let this happen if you want it so fucking bad!”

“Because I was finally okay again!” Adam yells back at him. Nigel has never heard him yell before, but now Adam whirls on him with fire in his eyes. He’s breathing hard, chest heaving with hurt and fury. “I was _fine!_ I was over Beth, I was making friends, I was even going out to, to _bars_. It didn’t hurt anymore! And then you walked in and just… Just _demanded_ I drop everything for you, just _decided_ I had to love you. You didn’t even ask me what _I_ wanted! I was...” Adam trails off with a sob, wiping at the tears in his eyes with a frustrated growl. Nigel reaches for him and gets another glare for his trouble. “I was finally okay again,” Adam says again, quiet this time, and achingly sorrowful. “And you wanted me to do it all over. Well I don’t want to do it all over, Nigel! I’m not going to let you hurt me.”

“I would _never-”_

“Don’t,” Adam snaps. “You can’t promise that. Nobody can.”

“I can promise to _try_ ,” Nigel insists, “But I didn’t even do that, did I? I let it go, Adam. I promised to be your friend, nothing more, and I think I’ve done a pretty good fucking job. Never put my feelings on you, never made you have to deal with them. You don’t get to be mad at me when _you’re_ the one pushing.” Pushing Nigel’s boundaries, his buttons.

Pushing Nigel _away_.

They stare at each other, two people trapped in their own fury and hurt. Adam breaks first, folding his arms around himself with a small sigh. “Just leave, Nigel,” He whispers, “Go home.”

“Adam-”

“ _Please_ , Nigel,” Adam says, and looks up with those heartrendingly blue eyes that Nigel can never say no to, “Just leave.”

And Nigel listens. Like he will always listen to Adam.

\-----

Nigel lets things lie for a week. The first day is easy. He’s angry, and hurting, and he knows if he says anything to Adam, it will only be cruel words aimed to cut.

The second day is full of guilt. He spends it certain that he’s somehow caused this, that he said or did something that made Adam feel pressured, made him feel like Nigel wasn’t satisfied with his friendship. Made him feel like Nigel was owed something. The very thought makes Nigel nauseous. He would have longed for Adam the rest of his life and never regretted a second of it, if it meant Adam was happy.

The third day, he cycles right back to rage, but by the fourth he’s feeling a bit more rational.

They miss two dinner dates. Nigel lets them pass with only a hint of regret; If Adam needs time, Nigel will give him all the time in the world.

Or at least, he would like to. By the time a week has gone by, Nigel has to admit to himself that Adam is unlikely to make the first move. It’s not in his nature. He’s the type to assume that if Nigel wanted his attention, he would say so. He’s told Nigel before how wary he is of forcing his presence on others, too aware of his tendency to ramble and monopolize a conversation. If Nigel wants to fix any of this, he will have to take things into his own hand.

Nigel shows up with flowers, which Adam takes with a slightly baffled expression, holding them at arms length as if trying to discern a purpose for them. He looks tired, bags under his eyes and a wariness to his stance.

“Please,” Nigel begs, “Just let me talk. You don’t have to let me in, I’ll stay right here in the hall.”

Adam looks past him to the doors of the other apartments, and shakes his head. “No, my neighbors wouldn’t like that. You should come in.”

They sit at the table, a half-eaten tray of mac and cheese abandoned between them. It’s well past Adam’s dinner time, but he makes no motion to finish his food. He stares at Nigel’s cheekbones instead.

“I don’t want anything from you that you don’t want to give,” Nigel tells him. “And I’m sorry I yelled at you. I’ve never wanted you to feel pressured, Adam. I...” He chokes, for a second, and then forces the words out. “I love you. I love you more the more I know you, and it’s _because_ I love you that I will happily be nothing more than your friend for the rest of our lives. If 7% of the world can do it, that’s millions of people, Adam. If _millions_ of people can be platonic soulmates, so can I.”

Nigel is trembling when he finishes speaking. His hands shake in his lap. If Adam tells him to leave, he will go. But he doesn’t know where he’ll end up, after that. What he’ll make of himself.

“I called Beth,” Adam whispers, staring down at the table. It’s not at all the answer Nigel was expecting.

“What the fuck did you do that for?”

“Because she’s my friend,” Adam explains, “And she knows about relationships. More than I do.” He fidgets, tapping his fingers against the table top. “She was… She was better about us, than I was. She messed up a lot, but I always knew she loved me.”

It hurts, listening to Adam talk about love with another person, and Nigel’s still confused. “What did Beth say?”

“She asked me if I loved you.” Adam looks up, meets Nigel’s eyes for a split second before locking carefully on his forehead. Nigel’s heart thumps in his chest. “Then she asked me if I’d told you.”

Implying there was something to tell. Nigel reaches for words, and doesn’t find them. He stares at Adam, mouth open for a question that won’t come. Adam…

Adam _reaches_ for him. He takes Nigel’s trembling hand in his own, and doesn’t resist when Nigel immediately slides his grip up to Adam’s wrist, over the heart-shaped soulmark.

“The first time I ever told Beth I loved her was the night before I moved to California,” Adam tells him. “It was also the night she broke up with me. She told me that if the reason I wanted her to come was because I needed her, then she couldn’t go. I didn’t understand that for a long time. I was… I was so _angry_ with her. I didn’t understand how she didn’t know. I knew that I loved her. It never occurred to me that she couldn’t just… _feel it._ And then, after I finally understood, I used to get stuck thinking about it, thinking myself in circles. I should have done _this_ , I should have said _that._ I missed all the cues people are supposed to hit. And then I met you. And you wanted me, without knowing a thing about me.” Adam swallows, thick and heavy. Nigel’s eyes feel damp. “I said I didn’t want you to hurt me, and that’s true. But I didn’t want to hurt you, either. I kept thinking, what if I do it again? What if I never figure out how to tell someone they matter? I wanted Beth here to help me, but I wanted her for other reasons, too. Reasons I thought were obvious, and she never even knew. She still doesn’t know. I didn’t want that for you. Or for me. I didn’t want to hurt anymore, but I’m hurting anyway. I’m hurting both of us.”

“Adam,” Nigel breaths, leaning forward to brush a feather-light kiss against the thin skin of his wrist, “When we met, you said I couldn’t love you, because I didn’t know you. I know you, Adam. I know your quirks and your tics. I know that I have to be blunt with you. That if I want you to tell me something, I have to ask. I know you. And I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Adam whispers, and kisses him once more. This time, it’s better. This time, it’s _right_.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> "Ah," I said to myself, "I posted two updates this weekend! I shall reward myself by writing a fun little oneshot, just something quick to give myself a break from my WIPs!"
> 
> "Ah," My brain said, "Ah. hahaha. ha. ha."
> 
> *7000 words later*
> 
> "Well, fuck."
> 
>  
> 
> This was an idea I already had, but I allowed [indulgentlyediblylovely](http://indulgentlyediblylovely.tumblr.com/) to pick it from a list of ideas, so what it became is entirely for her!
> 
> I really like the beginning of this fic! .... I'm honestly not all that fond of the rest of it. But I hope you all will like it! I get asked for more SpaceDogs a lot, and I'm always happy to oblige. I love them.


End file.
